The Mania Course

Story Submitted by Lyle:

Rachael was a blind date set up for me by a mutual friend.  I was recently out of a long-term relationship, and thought that meeting new people would help me move on.  I spoke to Rachael briefly on the phone to coordinate, and we set up a date at a restaurant for later that week.  She sounded very excited over the phone, came across as a good conversationalist, and I couldn't wait to meet her.

I picked her up at her place and drove us to the restaurant.  I'm not exaggerating when I maintain that from the instant she saw me, she smiled, and she did not stop smiling the whole time.  At first it was nice, but it soon became downright ghoulish.  It was as if she had a botox accident that left her with a permanent grin.  However, I soon discovered that she had a matching personality.

No matter what I said, from "I had a good day," to "I think you look great," she answered some variant of, "Oh my God, that is so awesome!  I can't believe how super that is."

After we were seated at the restaurant, I asked, "Have you ever been to this place before?"

"No," Rachael said, "But already it's the coolest place I've ever been to."  She swung her head around, taking in the average decor as if she was high.

Swear to God, I said at one point that I had to go to the bathroom, and her response was, "That's so awesome.  I am so jealous!"

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, and I said, "You're very excited.  About everything."

She answered, "Because everything is exciting!"

I cracked a smile and jokingly (kind of) asked, "When we're done, you want to come back to my place?"

She widened her already-huge smile and said, "That would be so not awesome!"

I asked her, "Then what would be awesome?"

She said, "Anything but!  I'm in a great mood, but I'm not stupid."

I asked, "Are you always so peppy?"

She replied, "Only when people don't ask me why I'm so peppy.  Happiness isn't a disease, and it's okay to be happy all the time.  In fact, I think you're the one with the problem.  You've barely smiled at all tonight."

I smiled.  "I think I've smiled an average amount."

She pointed to her face and said, "This is an average amount.  Don't stop smiling, now."

I kept the smile on my face until the waitress came by to clear off our plates, mostly because I didn't want to look like an idiot.  When the waitress left, Rachael said to me, "You stopped smiling.  That's so not awesome."

"Sorry."

"Take me home, you not-awesome guy."

"Okay."  I played along, as interacting with someone so manic was exhausting.  I drove her home with hardly a word, but she kept a big, toothy smile on her face the entire time.  Nearing her house, I asked her, "Are you like this around your friends, too?"

"Yes," she said, "They love how happy and smiley I am."

We made it to her place, she said, "Bye!" jumped out of the car, waved at me, and grinned all the way back to her house and out of sight.  I drove away, imagining her smiling her way into pajamas, brushing her teeth, reading a book, turning off her bedside light, and smiling into her sleep, where her body would finally relax and her smile would dissolve away until called upon at dawn to begin a new day of glory and sunshine.

And I'm Sure Your Folks Are Proud

Email Submitted by Belle:

Hey sexy.  Do you like games?  I like to play "if they mated".  For example if Michael Jackson and John McCain mated you'd have an old dancing white guy with a gut but with some sweet moves.  See?

If Justin Bieber and a donkey mated, you'd have... baby donkeys!  HAHAHAHAHAHA.  You try.

If two cows and a car mated, you'd have... cowcar.

If my mom and dad mated, they'd have... me!  Trick question!

If you and I mated, we'd have... only one way to find out ;)

Let us find out what we would have if we mated.

Yours,
Phil

Teacher's Overexuberant, Drooly Pet

Story Submitted by Lauren:

Jeff wrote to me online.  He worked in wireless sales and had some impressive travel stories to tell.  We went out on a first date, which was a simple sit-down coffee affair.  I had a nice time with him, and he seemed very interested in me.  He asked where I worked (I'm an elementary teacher), what my dreams and aspirations were, etc.  I felt comfortable with him, but after all, it was only a first date.

The following Wednesday, I was in class, and was walking from table to table, where my second-graders were working on multiplication in groups.

A knock came from my classroom doorway.  When I turned to it, I saw that it was Jeff, holding a bouquet of daisies.  He gave me a big grin and walked them right over to me.

I asked, "What are you doing here?'

He replied, "I wanted to surprise my best girl at work.  There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

I said, "It's a school day!  You're not supposed to be here.  They'd call the police."

Unmoved, he shook the flowers in front of my face and said, "I brought you flowers.  Some women would consider that nice."

My second graders watched the whole scene with wide-eyed interest.  I took the flowers.  "It is nice, Jeff.  It's just that this isn't really the right time or place to—"

He grabbed the flowers back without a word, turned, and sped out of the classroom.

When I returned home that night, I discovered an email from him that read, "I cannot believe what a BITCH you are."

I thought of a dozen possible responses, but ended up with a simple, "Good luck out there."

He wrote me back, but I deleted it without opening it.

Illegal Sea Foods

Story Submitted by Jack:

Elana was a teacher I met online.  She had a very well-written profile, and she seemed very personable and friendly.  After a week or two of emails, I asked her out to a nice seafood restaurant for dinner.

Not too far into the date, she said, "This is a really nice place.  But I bet that as a lawyer, you're used to such places."

I shrugged.  "Not really."

"You must make a tidy sum, practicing law."

I replied, "I do all right.  Probably not half as much as you're thinking."

"Like how much?"

I laughed and said, "Enough to take care of dinner.  Don't worry."

She said, "Seriously, how much?"

"Enough."

"Enough being what?  Sixty thousand?  Seventy?"

I sighed.  "I'm not going to tell you how much I make."

"Why not?  How much do you make?"

I tried to change the subject.  "For how long have you taught?"

"Don't change the subject.  How much do you make?"

"I'm not going to tell you."

"But you can!  How much do you make?"

I raised my voice slightly and said, "I'm not going to tell you.  What does it matter?"

"Uh, there's a big difference between thirty grand and a hundred, so it matters.  How much do you make?"

I asked, "What's been your biggest challenge as a teacher?"

"How much do you make?"

"Can we talk about you for a little bit?"

She smiled and repeated, "How much do you make?  How much do you make?  How much do you make?  How much do you—"

"Shut up!" I shouted.  She jumped.  It might have been harsh, but I wanted her to shut up.  She didn't say a word to me, look me in the eye, or eat for the rest of dinner.  When the bill came, I held up just enough money for my share and said, "Sorry, I don't make enough to cover you," put it on the table, and left her and her immaturity, there and then.

For a Good Time

Email Submitted by Michelle:

ahaha i found ur emaill inside of the boys room in campus center.  it said u like fat onezz... so do u?  ahaha kiddin lol..... do u really tho?  i wont tell no1 promise....... cept my DICK.

Adrian

But I Love Ruining Lives

Email Submitted by Don:

I like your profile and your pics but I wonder how many hearts that smiling impish face has broken.  So maby you could tell me before we go any further.  I want to like you but you need to tell me if youve ever broken someone's heart.  Broken hearts take lifetimes to mend so I just want to know how many lives youve ruined.  If one or more then maybe we would be better as friends or playmates since I don't like to risk my own heart being broken or life ruined by a guy.

I have too many girlfriends this has happened to and I would rather a lonnely life by myself than a lonely life because of a guy who just loves ruining peoples lives.  My sorority sister says thats most guys but I think shes wrong.  You could be different.  I hope youre different.  I want you to be different.  Please lets just be nice to each other and not ruin each others lives ok?

Samantha

Ring Worm

Story Submitted by Leanne:

Trevor and I were out to dinner on our first date when he pointed to the gold ring with opal inlay that I wore.  He said, "That's a beautiful ring."

I replied, "Thanks.  It was my grandmother's."

"Can I see it?"

I took it off and handed it to him.  He studied it closely and said, "Wow, that's really nice."

I smiled and said, "Thanks."

Then, he pocketed the ring.  He said, "My grandparents were raised in New York, but they both moved out here, by coincidence, in the same year for college.  Two different colleges, though, and—"

"Excuse me," I said, "Can I have my ring back?"

"Don't interrupt," he replied, then continued, "But they met while both at college out here.  My grandmother was the first woman in her family to go to—"

I broke in, "Give me my ring back."

Trevor raised his voice, "Again with the interrupting.  Cut it out."

"Give me my ring."

"What ring?"

I took a deep breath and said, "I'm going to count to three.  If you haven't given me my ring back, then I'm going to scream for the police.  One..."

"What ring?  What the hell are you talking about?"

"Two..."

"Leanne, are you crazy?  I think you should—"

"Three..."

He stood up as if to leave.  I grabbed his wrist with both of my hands and screamed, "Thief!  Thief!  He won't give me back my ring!"

All heads turned to us.  He jammed his hand into his pocket, slammed the ring on the table, ripped his arm away from me and said, "I was going to give it back, you crazy bitch!  What the hell is wrong with you?" and ran off.

I put the ring back on my hand.  The host who had seated us came over and asked, "Is there a problem?"

I replied, "Sorry about that, but no.  There's no problem anymore."

After a phone call to a friend to come and pick me up, I felt a bit less shaken, but proud of myself for standing up to such a blatant, stupid thief.

Grandfather Was Present at Your Conception

Story Submitted by Joseph:

I met Edie online, and things went well enough to progress to a date.  We arranged a time and place, and I looked forward to it.  She seemed compassionate, humorous, and was easy on the eyes.

Come date night, I met her outside of the restaurant.  A man in a grey jumpsuit stood next to her, an older man with messy hair and a scowl.  She said, "Joe, this is my father, Rick."

Confused as to why her father was with her, I nevertheless extended my hand to greet him.  He looked at her and she said, "It's okay, Dad.  It's just Joe."

He extended a limp hand to me, and I shook it.  She asked me, "Ready for dinner?"

I was, but I had to ask, "Is your father coming with us?"

She replied, "Of course!  He's my dad."

Of course.  How silly of me.  We went inside the restaurant, sat down, and ordered.  The entire time, her father had his face turned toward Edie, who sat next to him, but his eyes fastened squarely on me.  I asked him, "What do you do?"

He stared back without an answer.  Edie chimed in, "He's an engineer.  He's on sabbatical right now."

"What sort of engineer?"

She replied, "Manufacturing.  He's invented some machines that they use in auto parts manufacturing."

"That's impressive," I said.  The man stared at me as if staring at a blank wall.

The only time he made a sound the entire time was after our meals came.  He pointed at me and said, "Plop plop."

Edie said to me, "Excuse us, my dad has to use the bathroom," and she led him to the restrooms and they returned after a little bit.

He never otherwise made a sound, and it made me very uncomfortable.  Clearly, he had some sort of disorder or had been in an accident, although why Edie brought him along was a mystery to me.

After dinner (I paid for her, but she insisted on paying for her father's meal, which he hadn't touched at all), we left the restaurant.  I was anxious to be free of the situation, as I hadn't been able to concentrate on being myself or learning more about Edie with a strange man staring at me through the entire thing.  I wished her and her father a goodnight, but Edie said, "You don't want to hang out anymore?"

I said, "Is your dad going to be with us the whole time?"

She said, "He's my dad.  Of course."

I replied, "I think I'm going to call it a night."

She asked, "Do you hate my dad or something?  What did he do to you?"

"Nothing.  I'm just tired.  Goodnight."  I gave her a quick hug, her dad a fast nod, and then I was off.

She wrote me an email that night to thank me for dinner.  I wrote back to tell her that she seemed very nice, but that I thought that her father coming along was a little strange and that if we were to go out again, I'd prefer it if she left him at home.

I never heard back.

Better the Divorce Should Come Before the Wedding

Story Submitted by Sienna:

Cameron and I met online, and he asked me out to dinner.  He rushed us through the meal, and after he paid the check, he said, "My friend works in the bridal shop around the corner from here.  Is it cool if I stop in to say a quick hi?"

I thought it weird that he'd want to visit with a friend during our date, but I didn't want to come across as controlling, so I told him, "Sure, that's fine."

We walked to the bridal shop, he strode up to the young woman behind the counter, and said, "One wedding dress, please!"

The clerk smiled and said, "Congratulations to both of you.  When's the event?"

I said, "But I'm not marrying him.  This is our first date."

The clerk said, "That's moving fast, isn't it?"

I asked Cameron, "Is this your friend?"

Cameron replied.  "Nope.  I just wanted to get you in here.  See anything you like?"

I said, "I think I'll meet you outside," and left.

He followed me out and said, "I thought you'd like being in a bridal shop.  I thought that you'd be all about marrying me."

"On a first date?  Are you serious?"

He scoffed, "Then no second date for you.  Good luck getting home," and he walked off.

I called after him, "My car is parked right down the block, idiot!"  No response from him as he continued on his way.  I went back to my car and drove home.

His Patron Saint Is Charlie Sheen

Email Submitted by Laura:

I would love to go on a boat trip with you, take a canoe out on a lake early in the morning, find an island, explore, have breakfast, and enjoy everything that nature has to offer.  We could climb a mountain, explore forests, hike into caves, and rest easy in nature's bounty.  Anyplace, anytime.  Lunch in the mountains, dinner in the forest, a night under the stars by a fire.

And by "I would love to go on a boat trip with you, take a canoe out on a lake early in the morning, find an island, explore, have breakfast, and enjoy everything that nature has to offer.  We could climb a mountain, explore forests, hike into caves, and rest easy in nature's bounty.  Anyplace, anytime.  Lunch in the mountains, dinner in the forest, a night under the stars by a fire," I mean, "I want to fuck you raw."

OH YEAH!!!,
Logan

Pirate of the Caribbean

Email Submitted by Tim:

Great news!

I won a free trip to the Caribbean!  It's a trip for two and I would consider taking you with me!  Why you and not a friend?  Why can't you be my friend!  See?  You CAN be my friend!

First you will pay me for the ticket (Ill only charge you half price - half price to the Caribbean!)!  Next we will get SEPARATE BEDS.  NO HURDYGURDY.  YOU PAY for all of YOUR MEALS!  Except for meals covered by the trip which I think is all meals but any meals not all meals YOU COVER SELF.

What else?  Oh yes!  We go where I want to go.  My trip my rools.  You give me a smile and we enjoy our time together?  K?  K!

Jenna

I Hollered, "Someone Shave Me!"

Story Submitted by Alex:

Patty and I had been together for a solid two and a half months when the date arrived for her cousin's wedding.  It was being held at a resort a few hours away from where we lived, and Patty and I stayed overnight in her aunt's house (which was close to the venue) the night before.

That morning, we woke up early and dressed for the event.  I showered, brushed my teeth, and realized that I had forgotten my razor.  I had a couple of days' worth of stubble, and it was my intent to shave it off, so I asked Patty if she had a razor I could borrow.

"No," she said.

I asked, "Does your aunt have a spare razor I could use?"

Patty said, "I'll go ask."

She returned with a sharp kitchen knife and placed it on the counter by the bathroom sink.  I asked her, "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Shave."

I said, "Why don't I run out somewhere to grab a razor?"

She glanced at her wrist, but wasn't even wearing a watch, and said, "There's no time.  We leave in 20 minutes.  Use the knife!"

"I'm not going to shave with a knife."

"Why not?"

"It's not safe or sanitary."

She said, "You have to shave with something."

I replied, "I think I'd rather show up with stubble than attempt to shave with a knife.  I'd rip my face up."

"I'll do it for you."

"No.  You'll rip my face up."

"It will be humiliating to be seen with you if you don't shave."

"And it will be humiliating for me if you don't cut the drama.  It's really not a big deal."

I didn't end up shaving with the knife, she barely spoke to me the entire time we were there, and we broke up shortly afterward.

Swing and a Miss

Story Submitted by Felicia:

Rob messaged me online, and I was instantly attracted to his profile.  He was a ballroom dancer, and in addition to having photos of himself dancing, he also listed the dances at which he considered himself proficient.  All were ones that I wanted to learn, myself.  I was a novice in the dance scene back then, so I was anxious to meet people who could introduce me to that world.

I replied to his email, and we struck up a great conversation.  "I'd love to teach you," he wrote, "I promise I'll be patient."

For our first date, he said that he'd take me out to dinner and then to a dance hall for some swing, which I had wanted to learn for some time.  Dinner went well, and when we made it to the dance, he was, as he had promised, patient with me.  At least, at first.

As more people arrived, he introduced me to many of them, as he had been involved in the local dance scene for some time.  As expected, he danced with a few other girls, as I watched and studied his moves.  Whenever someone asked to dance with me, I warned them that I was a beginner, but everyone was very warm and supportive.

After a little while of not dancing with each other, Rob sought me out and danced with me again.

He said, "Wow.  You really suck at this.  It's like you haven't improved at all since we got here."

I replied, "Maybe if you took the time to teach me, like you promised."

He moaned and said, "I can't spend all night teaching you."

I said, "I'm here to learn.  I'll can just ask someone else if it's too much trouble for you."

He said, "Fine, come with me."  He took my hand, led me outside the dance hall, and said, "Wait here."  He went back inside.

After five minutes, I had a sneaking suspicion that he had meant to leave me out there until he was done, like a dog you tie up outside a restaurant while you go in to eat.  What an asshole!

I went back in and sure enough, I saw him dancing with someone else.  I danced with as many people who weren't him as possible.  I met some great folks, and another guy even asked for my number.  I gave it to him, and he and I ended up dating for a while.

As for Rob, I didn't see him again after that night.  I didn't miss him at all.

Rocky Road Rage

Story Submitted by Martin:

Talia and I met online and made plans to meet for a first date at a local restaurant in the middle of town.

En route, I was stopped at a red light and glanced at my GPS. I didn't notice the light turn green and the blue SUV behind me honked about a dozen times. I drove ahead on the one-lane road, and the SUV tailgated me, honked repeatedly, and flashed its brights. I pulled over to the side to let the asshole zoom by and give me the finger out the window.

I arrived in town, parked, and made my way to the restaurant, where Talia was waiting for me. We sat down to a nice dinner, although she was quiet and seemed nervous. I did my best to engage her, and she opened up to me a bit.

I asked her if she wanted to take a walk, maybe hit up an ice cream place. She had leftovers from dinner, and asked that we stop by her car to drop them off.

She led me to a blue SUV, which was parked nearby, opened it, and put in her leftovers. With more than half a mind that she was possibly my road adversary from before, I kept my mouth shut until we were sitting down for ice cream.

"So," I said inside the parlor, "Were you in a hurry to get here tonight?"

She asked, "What do you mean?"

I said, "Because on my way here, someone in a blue SUV nearly ran me off the road."

She stared at me and froze. After what felt like five minutes, she asked, "That was you?"

I said, smiling, "Yes. What was the problem?"

"You're the problem!" she yelled.

"What?"

"That was you? You're the problem! A great big problem!"

It was then my turn to stare as she finished her ice cream, sat back, and said, "I think I'm all set. Ready to go?"

I was. We walked out together, then back to our separate vehicles, and she sped off. Between you and me, I think the problem was actually her.

From the "Shoots Self in Foot" Department:

Email Submitted by Dave:

You have four profile photos. In each one, you are wearing a shirt from a different college. For the sake of all that's holy, which college did you attend? I'm making a tally of colleges that dating site guys went to for my own personal research. I might sell the data to a university but anonymize the sources so they won't know who you are.

If you don't participate that's fine. I'll tell everyone on my profile that you love anal.

Greta

We Met at a Mixer

Email Submitted by Lois:

Hey Lois,

My favorite color is brown, I'm a libra, and my favorite flavor of ice cream is pistachio. In return, I have three questions for you:

1. If you had to pick another gender to be other than your current one, which would you pick?

2. Have you ever been drunk in public?

3. Does the thought of being covered in cement turn you on? I ask not because I plan to cover you in cement. I just like the sounds it makes when it flows and pours! Just because someone likes the cries of birds doesn't mean that one wants one to keep! They shit! Bird shit!

Ben

¡Cuidado Llamas!

Story Submitted by Norma:

Ryan was a gregarious guy who worked in computer networking, and we had met online.  He and I were taking a walk after brunch on our first date when he turned to me and asked, "Do you know the sound a llama makes when it mates?"

I searched my memories, but wouldn't you know it, I couldn't recall if I knew the answer to his question.  I said, "No."

He replied, "It sounds a lot like a person.  It's creepy."

"I see.  And why would you ask?"

He said, "If we end up in bed, I'd want you to know that it was me and not a llama."

"You'd be surprised," he said, "People are very similar to llamas."  We happened to be walking past a bakery, and he said, "Wait right here," and went inside.

A minute later, he emerged with a cinnamon roll and ate the entire thing, right in front of me.  He asked, "What do you think of that?"

I replied, "I think you're a little strange."

He said, "Fuck you, llama hater."

I was at a loss for words, then was able to say, "I don't get what you're saying."

He rolled his eyes, took my hand, and said, "Let's walk a bit more.  It will all become clear to you."

We walked another 10 minutes in silence, and ended up back at his car.  He said, "Well, goodnight," then kissed my cheek.  It was about 1pm.  He entered his car and drove away.  I guessed that he wasn't interested and came up with that cockamamie scheme to end the date, but he texted me three times over the next two days, asking me out to see a movie.  I ignored his messages.

What's Bugging Her?

Story Submitted by Miguel:

Beverly and I met at a trivia night at a local bar.  After the game, we talked for an hour and she gave me her number.  A day or two later, I called her and asked her out to dinner.

The meal went satisfactorily until in the middle of a conversation about pets, she pounded her fist several times on the table, making my heart jump into my mouth.  She remained staring at me, with her fist on the table.  I broke the silence with, "What was that about?"

She said, "I saw a bug crawling towards you."

I looked at her fist and she frowned at it.  I asked, "Did you get it?"

"I don't know.  I'm kind of grossed out and don't want to look."

I said, "How about if you look away and I check?"

She nodded, looked away, and I checked under her fist.  Nothing was there, and I told her so.  She glanced back and said, "I know I saw something.  What did you do with it?"

I replied, "Nothing.  There was nothing there."

She said, "I definitely saw something.  You took it away.  Afraid I'd emasculate you or something."

"What?"

She went on, "I protected you from a bug, and you have to maintain your masculinity, so you pretend that there was no bug."

"But there was no bug."

"Are you saying that I was seeing things?"

Pause.  Then, "Yes."

She said, "Or maybe you planted a bug there.  Maybe this was all planned on your part."

"It wasn't."

She banged on the table with her other fist.  "There was a bug!" she shouted, "Say there was a bug!"

"Okay.  There was a bug."

"Do you mean it?"

"No."

She turned away from me and shouted, "Check please!" into the restaurant, then turned back to me and said, "I can't believe you.  You're not even worth spending another minute with."

I didn't say a word.  The check came, we split it, and she bolted out of there faster than a centipede on fire.  Not just over a bug, but over a bug that didn't exist.

Swim Away!

Story Submitted by Victoria:

Arnold and I had been dating for a couple of weeks when he invited me to a pool party at his friend's house.  It was supposed to be a small crowd, about a dozen people or so, but when we arrived, we found that there were closer to 70 to 80 people there.

Arnold and I mingled around and found some friends that we both knew.  He seemed particularly interested in speaking to one girl who wore a microscopic bikini.  Soon I left his side for the snack table, and then went for a swim.

Not long after, the sun went down and Arnold's friend Eddie, the owner of the house, brought out the alcohol.  I wasn't planning to drink very much, but the line for the bar wrapped around the pool.

Not long after that, Eddie shouted for everyone's attention.  He said, "Swimsuit competition!  Let's have some volunteers!"

A few girls waved their arms ferociously, in an effort to volunteer.  Arnold, who I hadn't seen in a little while, found me and said, "You've got to enter."

He stank of alcohol and I said, "I don't think so."

He yelled, "Vicky's in!"  He grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards a group of women who were gathering at the diving board.

I pulled away and said, "I said I'm not doing this."

"Why not?" Arnold asked, "You've got a great body.  Let's go."

The other girls strutted their stuff on the diving board to drunken cheers and whoops.  I wanted nothing to do with it, and so I broke into the crowd.  Arnold came after me, caught up, and grabbed me, close to the house.

"You're embarrassing me," he hissed, "Every other woman here is doing it.  What makes you so special?"

"The fact that I'm not doing it," I said.

"But it's so hot!" he replied, "It'll turn both of us on."

I opened my mouth to reply, but he grabbed my bikini top, pulled it towards him, and made to kiss me.  I hit him away, he let go, and I ran into the house.

He roared after me, but I found the basement, ran into it, and remained there until I felt it safe enough to emerge, gather my things, and leave.  I had been his ride there, but as far as I was concerned, he had forfeited a ride back, at least in my car.  I'm sure that he was able to find someone, more similar to himself, who took pity.

That Might Be Up for Debate

Email Submitted by Wayne:

Hey.

I'm looking for a guy to go bee farming with me one weekend.  Most guys stop reading there but the assholes don't get to the part about how they're covered in protective gear from head to toe.  There's actually a greater chance that you'll be stung by a bee while normally out and about than among thousands of them in the protective gear.

It amazes me that women are called the "weaker sex" when guys are all such babies.  Woman have been the initiators of everything throughout history - usually by withholding sex.  The lightbulb, television, and wheel - all invented by women or by men under the guidance of women.  And we're supposed to worship YOUR penises? 

Let me know if you want to go bee farming with me.  It'll be fun, there's free honey involved, and you'll prove your masculinity to a very doubting woman.  GROW A PAIR AS BIG AS MINE - AND I DON'T HAVE ANY.

Elizabeth

But Are They Really?

Email Submitted by Ann:

Terry is my name.  I'm in your life for a reason and you've known this of old.  Do you believe in fate?  I am its mighty harbinger.

You mention your favorite flowers, vacation destination, and birds.  Did you know that these are also my favorites?  They are exactly the same, but I don't have a favorite flower, my favorite destination place is San Francisco, and I can't pick out a favorite bird just yet.

You sing opera too?  I love opera.  Clearly we should be talking, at least, meeting, at least, and doing the things that lovely copulating couples do on the waaaaaay..... reflecting as the moonlight breeze blows through your haair.

Never again!  Your sufferings are at an end!

Terry

To Be Fair, He Had Two Noses

Story Submitted by Gary:

Back in college, a friend introduced me to Sarah, a bright and attractive physics major.  Sarah and I fell into the habit of calling each other often, and it wasn't long before I asked her out on a date.

She said, "Meet me at my dorm room, and we'll head out from there.  You can let yourself in."

I did, although I arrived a bit early.  She was still readying in the bathroom, so I called a greeting to her, then sat on a couch in the suite's common area.

A blonde girl, who I guessed to be her roommate, Anna, walked into the room and froze when she saw me.  I introduced myself and explained that I was waiting for Sarah to come out of the bathroom.

Anna walked over to me and whispered, dead serious, "Get out of here while you have the chance.  She has a different guy over every night, and the sex never stops.  It just never stops!"

Articulate as ever, I replied, "Uh..."

Anna went on, "It always goes!  It never stops!  Two a.m., midnight, five a.m., it doesn't matter!  Sex, sex, sex!  That's all she ever has!  It never, ever stops!"

"I appreciate it," I said, "But I'll take my chances."

"Last night," Anna said, her voice lowering, "She had a guy in here with two mustaches."  She tapped the area under the bridge of her nose.  "This area was blank, but he had a mustache on either side."

"Okay."

"Two mustaches.  And the sex didn't stop."  She looked over her shoulder, mumbled, "Gotta go," and left the room, presumably for her own bedroom.

I was left alone with my bewildered thoughts for a little bit longer before Sarah emerged from the bathroom, gave me a hug, and we left for dinner together.

We had a nice meal, and had a couple of drinks each.  After I had settled up the bill, I asked her, "So, do you know a guy with two mustaches?"

Sarah burst out laughing and said, "That's Anna's boyfriend, Reggie.  Did you see a picture of them together or something?"

Tipsy and stupid, I said, "Anna told me that you were seeing a guy with two mustaches."

Sarah replied, "That's Reggie, and I'll tell you something else: when those two have sex, it's louder than a monster truck rally.  She told you that I was seeing him?  That bitch!"

Sarah stood up and left.  I followed her, mostly to ensure that she made it back to her dorm safely.  I planned to walk her to her room, then call it a night.

She didn't seem to notice me as she strode into her dorm, stumbled to her room, and banged on Anna's closed bedroom door.  She called, "Anna?  Don't tell my dates that I'm fucking Reggie.  I'm not!  Anna?  You there?"

After about a minute of this, Reggie himself opened the door.  Indeed, he had two mustaches.  He glanced at me, then looked at Sarah and said, "I think it's time for bed, Sarah dear."  He said to me, "I got her from here."

I asked Sarah, "You going to be all right?"

She nodded and said, "Yeah, this happens all the time.  Goodnight, Larry."

"Gary."

"Goodnight!"

She slipped into her bedroom and closed the door.  I gave Reggie a very uncomfortable look, then left.  I didn't ask her out on another date after that, although we hung out once or twice.  She was just too off the wall for me.

An Autographed, First Edition of Leaves of Grass?

Story Submitted by Deanna:

Daniel is the reason why I no longer keep an online profile.  He wrote me online, I wrote back, and so began a correspondence that lasted about two and a half weeks before he asked me out to dinner.  I felt comfortable enough with him to accept, and he seemed as normal as normal could be.

He picked out a restaurant at which to meet, and I arrived there right on time.  Not long after, he texted me: "I have surprises for you."

I wrote back, "Thanks.  Where are you?"

He replied, "My car.  I'm parked across the street from the restaurant."

I went outside and found him sitting in his sedan.  He said, "Come on in.  It won't take more then a minute."

I climbed into the passenger side, closed the door, and he said, "I have two surprises for you, tonight.  The first..."  He unzipped his pants, pulled out his penis and balls, shook them, and yelled, "Wuh wuh wuh wuh wuh..." with every shake.

I screamed and jumped out of the car, not even bothering to close it behind me.

"What?" he yelled after me, "What's wrong?"

I made it back to my car, my mind still saturated with the image of his jiggling man-flesh.  On my way home, he texted, "Where'd you go?  I have a second surprise for you."

I didn't go back, and I don't even want to know what the second surprise was.  Maybe you have some theories?

Bleed to Love Her

Story Submitted by John:

Stacy and I had a nice lunch on our first date, then took a walk around a nearby college's campus.  It was a pleasant, warm day, and as we strolled, we made it to the top of a hill that sloped down to the athletic fields.

All at once, she hit me, said, "Tag, you're it!" and ran down the hill.

I laughed and ran after her, but our fun turned sour as she tripped, stumbled head-over-heels, and tumbled awkwardly down the slope until she came to rest, filthy and bedraggled, at the bottom of the hill, near the track.

She struggled to stand, but fell over.  I reached her and walked her to a bathroom in a nearby building, where I helped her clean up.  Amazingly, she said that nothing was hurt, and that she thought she would be okay.  I left the bathroom as she wanted to use a toilet.

While waiting outside, I heard a colossal bang, and shouted into the bathroom, "You okay?"

She called back, "My head!  Ow, my head!"

I stepped into the bathroom and found her sitting on the floor, right by a stall.  She said, "I hit my head against the door."

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She said, "Yeah.  I think it's dangerous to be me, today."

We walked out of the school, and she seemed to be none the worse.  Then, as we walked across a grassy yard, she slipped and fell backward, onto her rear.  I knelt to help her up, but she shoved me away.

"Don't you get it?" she asked, "I'm trying to end the date!  Get lost!"

I didn't register what she had said as logical, so I asked her, "Are you okay?"

She said, "Yes!  If you keep sticking around, then I'll keep hurting myself!  So go!"

It was one of the strangest things I had ever heard, but if that's what she wanted, I was glad to oblige.  I left her there, on the grass.

Taste the Adventure

Email Submitted by Mia:

I'm writing this from a balcony overlooking a harbor in the riviera. My lifestyle allows me to take such trips and be surrounded by classy, sexy women. I had a sumptuous dinner last night but one thing was missing: you!

A life with me will be filled with triumph and adventure. You and I and our kids will travel across the globe and experience everything life has to offer! The finest meals, entertainments, and joys that money can buy!

Imagine yourself hiking the Pyrenees, sharing a glass of wine in Rio, or backpacking Switzerland!  All is possible through me.

You might wonder what I do for a living, but that's not important right now. What is important is your loyalty, your honesty, and your thirst for great adventure! It is a delicious fluid, and I invite you to drink it right out of me!

Murray


*****************************
(Mia says: "He wrote on his profile that he was an investment banker, but he came off, to me, sounding more like a career criminal.")


What's the difference?

You and Me Makes Three

Email Submitted by Nathaniel:

Since first seeing your profile I've wanted to write you but I haven't. I think that we might make a good match. Tell me about yourself!

Mmhmm. Yes. I see. Well, thanks for telling me about yourself! Now I'm even more sure that we'd make a good match.

Oh? What's that? You think I'm beautiful? Well thank you very much! You really shouldn't have!

See, I think that...oh? Really? Oh you are too sweet! I'd love to go out for dinner at a nice place. That might be rushing things though and we mustn't be too forward. I don't mind talking about it though!

I think that's a good idea you had. Let's keep talking and then do dinner! We can't wait!

Penny

Heroine

Story Submitted by Tabitha:

Frank messaged me online, and we had enough in common for me to say yes when he asked me out for dinner and drinks.  What we didn't have in common, I found out very quickly.

He approached me, as we had agreed, outside of the restaurant, but his speech was slurred and he was doing some sort of shuffle-dance, as if he was incapable of standing still.  "You okay?" I asked him, "You need to use a bathroom?"

He replied, "Probably.  I shot up a little too much."

"Shot up?"

"Mmmm," he said, then shuffled his way into the restaurant.

I went inside with him and asked, "Can I call you a cab?  I don't think you should be out in the state you're in."

He said, "Nah, I'm good.  And you're pretty."  We sat down at the bar and he ordered us drinks.

A friend of mine from high school had been a heroin addict who thankfully had detoxed, so I at least vaguely knew how to deal with such a person.  I thought that I could have probably convinced him to go home, but he needed help.  I thought it was dramatic, but calling 911 seemed to be my only option.

I excused myself from the bar, called 911, and asked for an ambulance.  Again, maybe dramatic, but remembering my friend, this guy was probably someone else's friend, and what if he didn't have the support that my friend did?

I waited outside and met the two paramedics there.  I explained the situation, described Frank, and they went inside to pick him up.

They apparently did it without incident, as he went with them willingly, from what I could see.  They brought him inside the ambulance and were in there with him for a little while before one of them emerged and told me that they were going to bring him to the hospital.

I followed the ambulance there, waited in the waiting room, and the doctor was nice enough to give me at least some limited information, even though I was just his "friend."  His condition wasn't terrible, but they were going to keep an eye on him and try to put him into a detox program.

I left the hospital and never heard from him again, thinking that my obligation ended at that point.  He was in good hands. 

That was five years ago, and I didn't hear from him again until this past January.  I received a card from him in the mail that basically said, "I don't know if you remember me, but I wanted to thank you for your help that night.  I've been off of heroin for almost four years.  Thank you."

I cried when I read that.

What a Teas

Story Submitted by Dan:

Beatrice and I arranged for a first date at a tea house.  I ordered a decaf oolong and she picked out Earl Grey.  "I've wanted to try this place forever," she informed me as we sat down at a table near the counter.

We spoke for a little while as our teas cooled to a good drinking temperature.  She sipped at hers, wrinkled her nose, then stood up and carried her tea to the barista.

"Excuse me," she said, "You gave me the wrong tea.  This is obviously rooibos.  I wanted Earl Grey."

The barista took the tea, opened its lid, smelled it, and said, "I'm pretty sure this is Earl Grey."

Beatrice said, "I'm a professional taster.  I think I know how Earl Grey tastes better than a barista."

The barista said, "Let me exchange it for you, then."

After a few moments, the barista handed Beatrice another cup of piping hot tea.  Beatrice returned to our table, we talked a little bit more, she sipped her tea, said, "Son of a bitch," stood up, and returned to the barista.

Beatrice asked her, "Can I speak to your manager?"

The barista said, "I'm the manager."

Beatrice said, "That's surprising, given that you've twice fucked up my order."  She then raised her voice, like a tourist who yells at a native as if the native will be able to understand now that the volume is cranked up: "I want Earl Grey.  Not rooibos.  Not rooibos.  Understand?"

The barista smiled and said, "That is Earl Grey, Miss.  I'm afraid I can't do another exchange."

Beatrice said, "I'm a professional taster, as I think I mentioned before.  This is rooibos.  I want Earl Grey.  Earl Grey."

The barista shrugged and said, "I don't know what to tell you.  That's definitely Earl Grey."

Beatrice turned to me and asked, "Do you know what Earl Grey tastes like?"

I said, "Probably not as well as you do."

Another patron, who sat nearby, a tall guy in glasses, said, "I'll try it."  He took the cup, sipped it, and placed it on the counter.  "Tastes like Earl Grey to me."

"It's not Earl Grey!" Beatrice said, louder than necessary.  She swiveled to me and said, "We're leaving."  She then turned back to the barista and said, "I hope that you've heard of the Better Business Bureau."

The barista said, "We have one of their stickers in our window," and she pointed.

Beatrice said, "Expect a call from them," and she walked out, faster than I could stand up to follow her.

I mumbled a "Sorry" to the barista, put on my coat, grabbed my tea, and pursued Beatrice outside.  Only thing was, she wasn't there when I made it there.  I don't know where she went or why she didn't wait, but I never heard from her again, although I still do give my business to that tea shop.  They didn't mess up my tea, after all.  Or hers, so it seemed.

The Devil's in the Details

Story Submitted by Dave:

Kendra's dating site handle was "lil_devil_121."  I wrote her, made conversation, and asked her about it.

"It's because I'm a troublemaker, a little devil," she wrote back.  I asked her to elaborate, and she replied, "You'll see."

On the date, she showed up wearing almost all red and a pair of light-up devil horns. 

"Oh, I get it," I said, "'Lil devil.  Great."

"Because I'm a little devil!" she informed me.  I expected her to remove the light-up horns, but she didn't.  She walked right into the restaurant, and the hostess asked us, "You guys coming from a costume party?"

"Yes," I said.

"No," Kendra corrected, "I'm just a little devil."

"Great," the hostess said, then led us to a table a bit away from the main dining area.

Kendra kept the horns on all through dinner, and she wouldn't shut up about how much of a "'lil devil" she was:

"My father called me that when I was two, and the nickname stuck.  Now my brothers, grandparents, and friends all call me that."

"And what do you do that's so devilish?"

She looked around the table, then stood up and said, "Be right back."

She returned in about 10 minutes with some sort of package wrapped up for me in toilet paper.  I unwrapped it, and it was sticks, leaves, and pine needles.  I looked up at her and she said, "I'm a 'lil devil!  Got to love me!"

"Thanks," I said, then collected them in a pile and moved them off the table.

"Eat them," she said.

"No thanks."

She narrowed her eyes, then tapped her flashing devil horns with her finger, which I think she meant as a kind of threat.  I smiled and said, "I'm not planning on eating them, but thanks for bringing them all the same."

"Refusing my gift is punishable by death," she warned me.

"I'll take my chances."

She barely said a word to me for the rest of dinner.  When we parted ways afterward, she commented, "The devil's going to jam you in the ass."

After that nice sentiment, it's a wonder that I never contacted her again.

Dark Chest of Wonders

Story Submitted by Linda:

Ken and I went out on a single date after meeting online.  He was a nice guy, but quiet and pretty into himself.  When he called to ask me out for a second date, I told him that I didn't sense much chemistry and that I thought it better for us to remain friends.  It sounded like he took it well, and we fell out of touch pretty soon thereafter.

Then, I received the first email.  He wrote me a long, five-paragraph piece all about his life goals, and how if I was "lucky," I could find myself playing a starring role.  I ignored this message, and the next one, and the next one.

His messages became more self-deprecating and he apologized for making me feel uncomfortable.  If I were him, I would have taken the hint and moved on, but I wasn't him.  Thankfully.

I worked as an administrative assistant on the 20th floor of an office building that had a guard in the downstairs lobby.  My particular office was the first one that someone would encounter upon walking in, although there was a glass wall between the office and the hallway.  I'd have to buzz a visitor in.

One day, not long after his last email, I was updating phone records when there was a loud knocking against the glass wall.

I looked up, stunned.  It was Ken, shirtless, with the words, "I'm sorry" emblazoned across his chest in red... god, I hope it was paint or lipstick.  He pointed at it as if I didn't see it at once.

I smiled, nodded, picked up the phone, and called security, who were by to escort him from the building in less than two minutes.  I have no idea how he found out where I had worked, as I had never given him the name or location of the place (although I did tell him the industry in which I worked).

He sent me about a dozen follow-up emails, and I deleted each without responding.

I Keep it Next to Where My Heart Used to Be

Story Submitted by Julia:

Pete and I met online.  We were surprised to learn that we lived in the same neighborhood.  After talking for a little while, we made plans to meet up.  He said that he'd walk to my house and we could decide what to do from there.

It seems appropriate at this point to mention that in the back of my house, there is a shed, and within this shed are a series of tools, both old and new, that my parents have collected through the years.  One of these tools is a full-sized scythe, just like the kind that death uses, only rustier, heavier, and real.

The night of the date, I told him that he could come by anytime between 6pm and 6:30pm.  My parents were out.  I was running a bit late, and was in the bathroom at 6:15, finishing preparations when I heard a tremendous bang against the side of my house.  It sounded like a gunshot.  I looked out the window and heard someone yell, "Yaaa!" just before another bang.  I couldn't see what was happening, but whatever it was was going on in my backyard, so I rushed downstairs to check it out.

When I looked out the window that faced the backyard, I saw Pete, swinging the scythe into my house.  "Yaaaa!" he screamed, then swung its blade into the vinyl siding.

I opened my back door and yelled, "Pete!"

He looked at me, smiled, and said, "Hey, Julia!" as if nothing at all was out of the ordinary.

I asked, "What are you doing?"

He said, "Testing this scythe.  It's awesome."

"Yes, it is.  Why are you testing it against my house?"

He said, "Well, the siding looked a little busted over here, so I didn't think you'd mind."

I replied, "I do mind, and my parents will probably mind even more."

He said, "That's shitty," then dropped the scythe in the grass and asked, "So you want to go out?"

I gave him a quick stare, then said, "I think you should leave."

He said, "No date?  Damn it!" and shuffled away, out of my yard and down the road.  I brought the scythe into the house (the shed didn't have a lock at that point – it does now) and I had to explain the situation to my parents when they made it home.

Luckily, they took it with relatively good humor (my mother said, "Well, we have been meaning to re-side.") and as mentioned, they have since put a lock on the shed.  Pete wrote me a terse apologetic email, which I appreciated, but to which I didn't respond.

The System Is Down

Email Submitted by Luna:

The body has many systems.  Love flows through them all.  The CIRCULATORY SYTEM is the system of blood - the heart - the organ of love!

Next up we have the RESPIRATORY SYSTEM - the system of breath - breath is required for life (unless dead) and fills our hearts with plenty of air so our love can balloon!

DON'T GET NERVOUS (system) - THE NEXT SYSTEM IS THE NERVOUS SYSTEM!!!  But it is not the system that makes us nervous!  It had nerves so that we can feel.  This is the system of the sense of touch!  We can feel a hand being held, the tears of a child, or a lovers' embrace.  Such a system!

BONE SYSTEM - THE SYSTEM OF THE BONES - this holds us up!  Internal scaffolding that allows us to stand foursquare!  No flowing/pouring for us.  Just straight and tall.

ENDOCRINE SYSTEM?!?!?!?!?!?!?! wtf

All of these systems working as one have engaged themselves for me to write you.  Will your systems do the same?

Stefan

Into Thin Air

Story Submitted by Bastian:

The summer of my sophomore year in college, I worked as a research assistant and met Gina, another sophomore who was taking some summer classes.  I had shared glances with her in the dining hall once or twice, but finally had a chance to talk with her at a department party about two weeks into the semester.

She was from Los Angeles and I expressed an interest in visiting there, as I had never been.  She said, rather forwardly, "You should visit me out there, once I go back after summer term.  I'll take you all around."

I thought it was a nice offer, and I kept it in mind as we dated for the remaining four weeks of the term.  We both had chaotic schedules, and if we saw each other three times a week, then that was a lot.  Still, we seemed to get along well, and I think that she enjoyed my company.

After the term ended, she went back to L.A. and I had the rest of the summer off, so I called her and asked her if the offer was still open to meet up with her in her hometown.  She said that it was, and so I bought a roundtrip ticket to L.A. for a flight two weeks later.

During those two weeks, we talked for at least an hour on the phone every day.  She talked about what we would do and where we would go, and she even mentioned our future together.  She'd say, "I love it out here, but I can end up wherever you do."  Needless to say, we grew even closer during those two weeks, even if it was by phone.

The day of my flight finally arrived.  I gave her the landing time, she promised to meet me at the airport, and I was very excited to be out there and to see her again.

When I landed, I made it to the baggage claim and looked around for her.  No sign.  I called her up.  It rang and went to voicemail.  I left a message, waited for a half-hour, called her again, and it went right to voicemail again.

After an hour, I became more concerned, and I sent her a text.  No response.  I called again, and it went to voicemail.  After two hours, I figured that she had either been in an accident or that I was being stood up in the lamest, most hurtful way imaginable.

Given that I never heard from her again (and I scanned the news for a week or two after to see if her name was in it), I can only assume that she stood me up.  She didn't even return to the college.

I was lucky enough to spend my time in L.A. with a friend who lived in Huntington Beach.  I tried Gina a couple more times that week, but she never replied.  On the plus side, my friend introduced me to some great people who I never would have otherwise met, and the trip turned out to be memorable and great, all the same.

'Ol Wet Lap

Story Submitted by Wesley:

This was one of my very first dates, back in high school.  I asked out my best friend's twin sister, Phoebe.  How nice and neat, I thought, if we get married, then my best friend and I will be brothers-in-law.  Awesome.  It also didn't hurt that Phoebe was very attractive and that we were already friendly.

I asked her out to a nice Italian place in town and I picked her up on a Saturday evening.  Phoebe was usually fun and talkative, but she was quiet and seemed nervous on the ride over.

"Everything okay?" I asked her.  She nodded.  I went on, "You do want to go out, right?"  She nodded again.  I figured that she just needed time to get comfortable with the idea of being on a date with me, and I liked her enough to give her that time.

She and I sat down across from each other at the restaurant, and so began one of the most awkward dinners I could ever remember.  She hardly made eye contact with me, rarely spoke, and when she did, it was barely a whisper.  Clearly, she was uncomfortable or something else was wrong.

I finally asked her, "Is something wrong?  You really don't seem to want to be here."

She looked at me for possibly the first time that evening and said, "I think I'm going to call my brother and have him pick me up.  I'm sorry."

I asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

Then she did something I didn't expect.  She kissed her pointer finger, tapped my nose with it, gave me a smirk, then stood up, took her full water glass, and splashed its contents into my lap.

I shouted, "Hey!" and mopped up the mess while she walked off.

As I said, we went to high school together, so it wasn't as though I wouldn't be seeing her again.  When I did, she acted friendly and jovial as if nothing had happened.  However, whenever I've brought up the date since then, she always clams up.  I'm still in touch with her and her brother, and it has always remained a mystery.

Bad Scents, No Sense, Two Cents?

Story Submitted by Felicity:

It wasn't too long after I had sat down to my first dinner with Chris at a cozy restaurant when I smelled something pretty bad... bad like body odor.

He must have noticed my sniffing and frowning because he said, "Crap.  It's probably me.  Do you have any deodorant on you?"

I did, but the idea of letting a guy I had just met use my deodorant seemed somehow like a mistake.  I asked him, "You'd want to use someone else's deodorant?"

He said, "Not usually, but I'd rather that than you smell me all dinner long.  I usually don't smell like this.  I don't know what's happened."

The stick I had was pretty depleted by that point, so if he was willing to use it, I was okay with giving it to him and not using it again.  I handed it to him, and he left the table for the bathroom.  I hadn't told him that I wasn't planning to use it anymore.

When he returned, he handed it back to me, and I put it back in my purse, thinking that I'd throw it away shortly thereafter.  He asked, "How's that?"

I sniffed the air, and indeed, I couldn't detect any bad smells.  "Good job," I said, "You must have been very thorough."

"Oh yeah," he said, "I did my pits, ass, and crotch.  The smell should be gone by the time you use it again.  Wasn't going to take any chances," and then he winked at me.

First and last date.

But You Did Just Ruin My Minute

Emails Submitted by Andy:

Andrew:

Thanks for taking me out.  I feel that now is a good time to speak my peace:

I didn't have the best time but not because of anything you did.  Something I did earlier that day really hurt someone else, and I've been trying to cope with the fallout from that ever since.  I meant to write you back (you must have been wondering what was taking me so long!) but it just happened this way.  I'm sorry if I ruined your year for you, and please accept my apology.

Ciara


********************************
Andy Responds:

Hi Ciara.

Are you referring to that one date I took you out on over a year ago?  After not hearing back from you, I actually forgot about you until this very moment.  Don't worry.  I had a great year.

Andy

Night Swim of Doom

Email Submitted by Natalia:

got an idea for a date with u.  we show up in our swimsuits and go swimming.  maybe as night goes on and skin gets pruny skin we can take off bathing suits and see what happens.  not saying anything will but make sure ur on the pill k?  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Jon

Turned On, But Not in the Good Way

Story Submitted by Duncan:

Mary and I had been seeing each other for a little while when she asked me if I wanted to stay over at her apartment.  Knowing what that potentially meant, I looked forward to it.

Sure enough, not long after I had arrived there, we watched some television in her living room and things became hot and heavy.  I asked her, "Want to move this to the bedroom?" and she nodded.  We departed the living room but left the television on.

She led me into her bedroom, sat me down on the bed, then turned on both lamps in the room.  "I'll be right back," she said.

I thought that she had left to turn the living room television off, but instead I not only heard its volume increase but she also turned on the television she had in the kitchen as well as the radio in her bathroom. 

When she returned, she turned on the TV there in the bedroom and said, "Okay, now that's better."

I asked her, "What's going on?"

She said, "Before I have sex, I have to turn on every electric appliance that I have: lights, TVs, radios, dishwashers, everything."

"Why?"

"Reduces guilt."

I said, "Oh.  We don't have to have sex if you're going to feel guilty about it."

"I won't feel guilty now, since everything is on."

It was noisy, but I was still up for it if she was.  We started back up with the messing around, but then she pulled away.  "I'll be right back.  Sorry."  She left the room again, then returned.  "I forgot to turn the toaster on."

She then took my hands in hers and said, "I don't think I can do this."

I said, "That's okay.  Want me to go?"

"Would you mind?  I'm sorry."

She walked me to the door of her apartment, said goodnight, and closed her door.  I waited outside for a minute or two to hear if she would turn down all of her TVs, but instead the noise of the multiple televisions was joined by the sound of someone stomping loudly.

I left, wrote her a nice, understanding email, and never heard from her after that.

Just Before Omaha Was Destroyed

Story Submitted by Melissa:

I went to college in St. Louis and during my freshman year, I met Barry, an older guy, online (he was 25) who offered to take me out on a date one Thursday night.

He picked me up at my dorm, I climbed into his car, and asked, "What's the plan for tonight?

"I know!" he said, "Let's drive to Omaha!"

Omaha was easily a seven or eight hour drive away.  It was 6pm.  I told him, "Maybe some other night?"

He said, "We have to go tonight.  It won't be there anymore after the weekend."

I asked, "What?  Why?"

He stared straight out of his windshield and gravely replied, "I have it on good authority that it'll be destroyed," then turned to me, smiled, and asked, "Ready to go?"

I said, "I have class tomorrow at nine."

"Plenty of time," he said, "And Omaha will only be with us for so much longer."

He pulled away in the car and we were on the highway headed west for a good five minutes before I asked him if he would consider doing something a bit more local.

"Nope!" he said.  "I'm going to Omaha tonight.  If you want out, your choice."

"I want out."

He slammed on the brakes, pulled over on the side of the highway, and said, "Have a good walk back.  I'd drive you, but I'm going to Omaha tonight."

I stepped out of the car and he flew off.  I called a friend to pick me up, and when she did, we had a good laugh about it, even though it had shaken me up a little.

He texted me a few hours later: "Had a good walk?"

I replied, "A friend picked me up five minutes later.  Having a good drive?"

No response.  I hope that he made it to Omaha before its destruction.

Folder? I Don't Even Know Her!

Story Submitted by Frank:

Maura and I met in a park for our first date.  She showed up with a printout of my dating profile and three file folders, one red, one yellow, and one blue.

"Depending on how the date goes," she explained, "Your profile's going to go in one of these three folders."

I asked, "What does each stand for?"

Without a word, she slipped my profile printout into her yellow folder.  She then asked, "Want to take a walk?"

Again, I asked, "What does each folder stand for?"

She replied, "If I told you then that would be giving too much away.  Let's take a walk."

We had known each other for barely two minutes, and I was already thinking about checking out.  Still, we were both out already, and I thought that perhaps it was possible to have some fun.

During our walk, I asked her how her day was and general getting-to-know-you chitchat.  She moved my profile into the red folder during this time.  I asked her, "What does that mean?" and she switched it back to the yellow folder.  I asked, "Are you trying to intimidate me with this?" and she kept it in the yellow folder but didn't answer my question.

We sat down in an outdoor cafe and she switched it back into the red folder as we sat there, saying not much of anything.  I asked her about her job and her hobbies, which included playing in roller derbies.  She gave short answers to each, and didn't ask me anything about myself.

I asked her, "Are you ever going to explain this folder system to me?"  She put my profile back into the yellow folder.  I said, "Every time I ask about it, you put it into the yellow folder."

No response from her.  I said, "It's kind of childish, isn't it?"  No response.  I asked her as much as I could about roller derbies and she slipped my profile back into the red folder.

I asked, "I haven't been in the blue folder yet.  Is that good?"

You guessed it.  Back into yellow I went.  I thought it would be a fun goal to make it into blue, so that I could brag to everyone that I had been in all three folders.  Unfortunately, I grew tired of her, and I soon stopped making conversation altogether.  During one such period of silence, she slipped me back into red.

As soon as our meal was over, I bid her goodbye.  She asked, "You don't want to hang out anymore?  Are you sure?"

I asked, "If you tell me what the folders mean."

She hugged them to her chest and shook her head.  I said, "Goodbye, then," and left her standing there with three folders and no more date.

The Happiest Children in the World

Email Submitted by Trina:

What's cookin?  I'm Charlie.  I see you also want kids.  Now we're getting somewhere.

Imagine us married.  Got it?  You and our kids will not forget my birthday.  You and our kids will not wake me before 9AM on saturdays or sundays.  Our kids will play sports and watch sports.  Our kids will have reasonable bedtimes.  They will accept discipline with bowed heads.  Homework time is homework time, not playtime or facebook time.  Homework time.

Parents today are too lax with their kids.  So often I see the parents being downtrodden and the kids being the masters' of the houses!  Not with me.  I will be a great father and nip all disobedience in the butt.  I will carve out a life for my wife and I whether my kids want me to or not!  We (wife and I) are the boss!  No argument!

I hope this refreshes you.  Let me know what you think and I'm all for open discourse.

Charlie

Up the Creek Without a Smartphone

Story Submitted by Cathy:

David and I were out on our first date to a restaurant.  It had been a little while since the Droid Incredible smartphone came out, and I had one.  He asked to see it and I showed it to him. He played around with some of the apps and found a game that he liked a lot.

He stood up and said, "This is awesome.  I'm just going to run to the bathroom."

"Can I have my phone back?" I asked him, but he was already walking off with it.  I didn't think too much of it at the time.  We had spoken online for three weeks before meeting, and he seemed like a good guy.

He came back to the table after a while.  "Everything okay?" I asked, "Where's my phone?"

He mumbled something that sounded like, "Toilet."

My breath caught in my throat.  "My phone's in the toilet?"  He nodded.  I asked, "Did you fish it out?"

He shook his head.  "Uh... it's in the toilet," he repeated.

I stood up and made for the bathroom, myself.  He called after me, "How are you going to get it out?"  It was a unisex bathroom.  I opened the door, looked in the toilet, and saw my phone within, surrounded by toilet paper.  Not thinking twice, I reached in, grabbed it, put it on the sink, washed my hands for about a minute, dried the phone, and tried to turn it on.

It was busted, and so I brought it out of the bathroom to an incredulous David.  I said, "I think it's broken, so you probably want to get me a new one."

He stared at me and at the phone.  "How did you get it out?" he asked.

"I reached in and took it."

"Into the toilet?  Eww!" he said, pushing himself back from me as if my very breath was contaminated.

I said, "I wished my hands.  Look, I want you to pay for this."

He said, "Shit never comes off!  Eww!  Eww!"

Raising my voice, I asked, "Are you going to pay for this?"

He asked, "Will I have to touch it?"

"No.  I'll carry it to the store, but you have to come with me to pay for it."

"Fine."

We hurried to finish dinner and I led him to a wireless store, where he purchased me a new phone (it cost him about $100), good as his word.  He seemed in a hurry to get away from me after that, and he didn't touch me since I had pulled the phone out of the toilet.  He must have thought that I was tainted for life, since he never contacted me again.

A Eugenic Personality

Email Submitted by Patrick:

Hi Patrick-

Thanks for your message.  I'm from a big family (six brothers and sisters NOT including me) and seeing all of them as often as possible is very important to me.  I want a big family of my own.  Strength in numbers! :D

I'm at the peak of my condition and am on here to find a lifemate.  It might be you.  It might not.  First though you need to understand and help me with something:

I'd like my future kids to have the best life that they possibly can.  As such, would you mind forwarding to me (however painful it might be - it's important) the ages and ways of death of any family members going back to grandparents at least?  I want to make sure that there aren't undesirable genetic issues in your family that would thus make us incompatible.  Nothing personal - I know you can't control your own genetics!  But better to find out now if you have flaws, yes?

So if you could write me back with that info that would be great.  Thank you!

Brenda

The Shameless Algorithm

Email Submitted by Leora:

/////////////////
ATTENTION!
/////////////////

YOUR ACCOUNT HAS BEEN COMPROMISED.  THIS IS NOT A PHISH ATTEMPT.  PLEASE REPLY WITH:

1. PASSWORD HINT (DON'T FORGET TO NEVER GIVE OUT YOUR PASSWORD ITSELF).

2. OUR SIGN-IN PROCESS INCLUDES A CALL TO YOUR WEBCAM TO SILENTLY TAKE A PHOTO OF YOU WHILE SETTING UP AN ACCOUNT.  THIS IMAGE IS THEN STORED SAFELY ON OUR SERVERS.  TO VERIFY YOUR ACCOUNT PLEASE SEND A FRESH PICTURE OF YOURSELF SHOWING AS MUCH HUMAN SKIN AS POSSIBLE FOR ALGORITHM VERIFICATION PURPOSES.

PLEASE DO THIS WITHIN 24 HOURS OR FACE ACCOUNT DELETION!

Jack
ACCOUNT RETREIVAL SPECIALIST


**************************
(Leora says: "You'd think that a site with such technology at its disposal would realize that it's impossible to attach a file within the site's own email client.")

Bump That

Story Submitted by Isaac:

Roseanne and I both lived in New York City, but in different neighborhoods.  We met online, and it progressed to a discussion about meeting in real life.  I offered to take the subway to her place, but she insisted on meeting closer to my neighborhood, and she said that she planned on driving.

Driving into my neighborhood is a dangerous game.  Street spots are a rare commodity, especially on a weekend night, which is when we planned to meet.  I advised her of this, but she insisted on meeting me in my area.  We arranged a time and I asked her to call me when she was close by.

Near our meeting time on the night of the date, I took a walk around my neighborhood to check for parking spots.  There weren't any.  All legal spots (and not a few illegal ones) were taken.

It was around this time that she called.  She said, "I'm having trouble with my car."  She gave me her location and I jogged a block over to find her parallel parking her Hyundai in an extremely tight spot between a Lexus and a Nissan.  She was banging on her steering wheel, and she wasn't happy.

I knocked on her window and she unlocked the doors.  I slipped in and she said, "I can't even get out of this spot, now!  I have no idea what this stupid car did!"

She put it into reverse and hit the Lexus behind us.  I asked, "Want me to try?"  She ignored that, shifted into drive, and instantly hit the Nissan in front of us.  In order for her to have become as stuck as she was, she had to have been trying to fit into the spot, no joke, for close to an hour.  And she was still over a foot away from the curb.

She said, "I know I can fit here."

"If you were dropped in from above," I said jokingly, but she was dead serious about this spot.  She moved her car backwards and forwards again, each time hitting a bumper.

She said, "Maybe if I give it a bit more gas, I can move one of those cars just enough to give me some extra space."

"I don't think that it'll work that way," I said, but she was already pressing her foot to the pedal.  We didn't move at all.  The smell of burning rubber wafted into the car.  I offered to exit and help to guide her into the spot, and she let me do that.

When I took a closer look, it seemed as though nothing short of a painstaking amount of work would be required to fidget into that spot.  Combined in the front and the back, she easily had less than an inch of space.

I told her this, and she said, "Can I just keep it like this?"

I said, "They might ticket it if you're this far away from the curb."

She replied, "Then I don't care how long it takes.  I'm going to get into this spot no matter what."

I suggested, "Why not leave it and circle the block to find another one?  I'll come with you."

"I don't give up," was her reply, and so I watched her shuffle her car back and forth for about five more minutes before I told her that it was becoming late.

"I'm almost in," she replied.  She was nowhere near it, and as she wasn't being reasonable, I didn't feel a need to stick around with her.

I said, "Why don't you call me when you get into the spot?"

She said, "You're not going to wait with me while I do this?"

I said, "I think you're wasting your time, trying to get in.  Try to get out and I guarantee that you'll find a spot even faster."

She said, "I found a spot," and kept moving back and forth.  I left and never saw her again.

The next morning, I walked past the parking spot, and a motorcycle was parked there.  The Nissan and Lexus were gone, but their bumpers must have been nicked and scratched all over.

Red Flag on the Play

Story Submitted by Helen:

Ron contacted me over a dating site.  He was a charming guy whose exuberance was a welcome change from the string of boring guys I had been dating.  It wasn't long before he asked me out to a Friday night dinner.

He picked me up from my place.  I was dressed for a nice night out, but he looked dressed for a high school football game.  I asked him, "Where are we going for dinner?"

"You'll see," he said.

He drove us to a local high school.  A football game was being played, and the place was thick with people.  He parked the car, turned to me, and gave me a big grin.

I asked him, "We're going to a high school football game?  I'm not any kind of football fan."

"Yeah!" he said, clearly excited to be there, "They serve food here.  Hot dogs, beer, Whatever you want!"

He led me into the packed bleachers, shoving his way through the crowd until he found a spot that was just as crowded as everywhere else around it.  He pumped both of his fists in the air and yelled, "Wooo!  Beat Briarton!"

Someone nearby said, "They're not playing Briarton!"

Someone else yelled, "Asshole!"

Ron yelled, "Wooo!" again, then teetered backward. Not long after, he put his arm around me and said, "Having fun?  Hungry?"

"No.  And yes," I replied.

He whistled and shouted, "Beer!  Beer over here!"

Someone yelled, "High school game, asshole."

Someone else said, "Food's at the concession stand."

Ron turned to me and asked, "What do you want?"

I said, "I want to go."

Ron replied, "I do too, but I want to see how the game ends, first.  I'll get you a hot dog.  Be back soon!"

He busted through the crowd faster than I could tell him I didn't want a hot dog at all.  I had had enough, though, so I squeezed my way out of the stands, walked a fair distance off, called a friend, and soon I was spirited away from that moron and Briarton or whoever it was that they were playing.

James Woods Will Smite Her

Story Submitted by Jay:

Genevieve and I met on a site that allowed users to include their religions alongside their profile essays. I'm non-practicing, but I have a Jewish mother and so that makes me Jewish. I listed myself as such on my profile.

Religion never came up during my conversations with Genevieve, and so I guessed that it was a non-issue for her as well. We seemed to have a lot in common, and so I asked her out to dinner a couple of nights after Christmas.

After we had ordered drinks, she asked, "How was your Christmas?"

I said, "Same as every year. Went to see a movie and ordered in Chinese."

She stared at me. "On Christmas?" she asked, "No big family dinner?"

I said, "Well, seeing as I'm Jewish, that's not usually in the cards."

Her face drooped and she suddenly looked winded. She asked, "You're really Jewish?"

I said, "Yes."

She replied, "My mistake," then stood up, laughed a little to herself, and walked away, leaving me sitting there. I thought that perhaps she had excused herself to go to the bathroom, to wash off some of my awesome Jewish aromas, so overcome by them was she.

When she hadn't returned after 15 minutes, I guessed that something anti-Semitic had taken place. I texted her, "Something I said?" then followed it up with, "Or something I believe in?"

No response either way, and so I had a tasty solo dinner and then went home to pray to Israel. Not really. I prayed to James Woods.

Enjoy Being Gullible!

Email Submitted by Phil:

Phil,

You're certainly living in a great place if you like wines. I hate wine, myself. Mostly because I visited a vineyard once, tried some wine there, and it tasted like puke.  Then they told me that wine's gross flavor comes from the feet of people who squash the grapes. You're tasting that whenever you gulp down your wine. Enjoy your toejam and footgrease!

Carol

Incomplete Collection

Story Submitted by Olive:

Stan and I spoke online for a week or so before he offered to take me out for a night on the town.  We set a time for him to pick me up at my house.

I expected him to ring the bell or knock, but instead he honked his horn.  Not very impressive.

When I went outside to meet him, I found him sitting in his car with three other women. He was wearing sunglasses (it was after sundown) and he rolled his window down.

"Hey," he said, "You can squeeze in back with Jen and Sandra."

The two girls in back squeezed together to make room for me.  I asked him, "Are these all your friends?"

The girls laughed and he said, "They're my collection.  Get in."

I asked, "Are we still doing our date?"

He glanced at the girl sitting next to him.  They smiled at each other and he said to me, "Uh, yeah.  It's a date.  Get in."

The girls laughed together, and he gave me a shady smirk.  I said, "This isn't what I had in mind when–"

"Okay," he interrupted, and drove off.  I went back inside and had a date instead with a leftover salad and an episode of Dr. Who.

Perhaps HE'S That One Person

Email Submitted by Susan:

Hey hey!

I'm very impressed with anyone who's as acrobatically flexible as you seem to be.  Also, I'd love to hear your dinosaur impersonation!

My turn to list my own stupid human tricks?  I thought you'd never ask!

-Can impersonate a seagull
-Can do a handstand
-Can hold breath for almost 90 secs
-Can fart the ENTIRE national anthem
-Can speak three languages

I've got more, but these are the g-rated ones ;)

Zachary


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(Susan says: "I'm not sure about the circumstances that would need to be in place in order for me to beg this guy to fart the national anthem, but at some point, I guess that one person must have found it impressive, otherwise why list it?")

I Lactate in Fear

Email Submitted by Stephen:

Hi I'm Greta.  You list a bunch of my favorite movies and all comedies.  Did you know that I'm studying comedy to perform?  I will tell you a joke or two..:

Men and women can't get along and this sucks!  Especially as their made for each other!

Why do men even have nipples?  Hahahahaha!

By the way everything I wrote above is copywrighted.  If you use any of it without my express permission then you WILL be sued!  As an example I have already pressed two suings against guys on this site for stealing my words.  Don't make their mistakes and don't commit infringement!  I will sue you and your nipples.

Greta

"Everything" Is Only Okay on Bagels

Story Submitted by Lawrence:

Through a good chunk of my 20s, I was into pot.  What got me out of it for good was my date with Cynthia.

I met Cynthia at a party, and she was also into it.  We talked for a while and I asked her if she wanted to hang out, smoke up, and chill out on a night that weekend.  I thought she was cute, and I wanted to get to know her better.

That Friday, she came over to my place, I put some music on in the basement, I set out some chips, we sat down on my sofa, and she pulled out a bag of weed.

She packed her pipe and handed it to me.  She said, "You've got to try this stuff.  It's like nothing you've had before."

I'd heard that before, and such claims, in my experience, were usually overblown.  This time, though, I took a hit of her stuff and it wasn't long before I felt my brain throb in a way it never had before.  Clearly, it wasn't just pot that I was smoking.  I couldn't even stand up.

"What the hell is in that stuff?" I heard myself ask.

She replied, "I'm going to crawl under your sofa."

There was only about four inches of space between the floor and the bottom of my sofa.  She tried to shove herself within that space, but it wasn't happening.  Again, I asked, "What in the name of Jehoshaphat is in that weed?"

She removed herself from my sofa, leaned over me, and said, "It's probably laced... with everything."  Then she did some weird clicking noises with her throat and fell backwards against the floor.

I didn't remember anything else until late the following afternoon.  My head felt as though it had been ripped open, and Cynthia lay next to me, face down.  She was breathing, and I tried to wake her, but she was totally out for the count.

I was really afraid that she was going to die, so I called 911 and long story short, she turned out fine after a few days in the hospital.  All I had was a bad headache that was gone by Sunday.

I'm not sure why she had such a bad reaction, but it scared me enough to stop altogether.

Living in the Pasta

Story Submitted by Rhiannon:

Tony messaged me online and included a claim that he was an amazing cook. I wrote back that I'd have to sample his cooking sometime. We talked a bit over the phone before I was comfortable enough to go out on a date with him.

"Want to come over to my place?" he asked, "I'll make you my famous fettucini alfredo."

I replied, "No thanks. Let's save it for a future date."

He went on, "Or I can just bring you the fettucini. You don't have to come to my place at all."

"That's okay. Thanks anyway."

"Why not? I'm willing to cook it for you."

I didn't like the idea of accepting home-cooked food from a person I had only just met. Maybe I was paranoid. Regardless, I tried as best as I could to delicately turn him down.

In the days leading up to the date, he must have asked me close to a dozen times if I wanted to try his fettucini. I politely refused each time, and each time he asked me to explain my reasoning.  It was all variations of, "I'd rather just have a simple first date with no expectations, and asking me to try your cooking might be a little too much at first."

Each time I said that, he seemed to understand, only to ask me again the next time we spoke.  I made it as clear as I could that I didn't want him to bring me anything.

The night of the date, we met in front of a restaurant, and wouldn't you know it, he brought me a container of his fettucini alfredo!

He said, "I know you told me not to go to the trouble, but it was honestly no trouble and I know you'll love it."  He popped open the container, pulled out a plastic fork, and handed it to me.

"No," I said, "I'm not going to try it."

"Just try it," he said, "It's my famous fettucini alfredo," then grabbed a forkful and shoved it towards my face.  It was at that point that I lost my cool.  I had tried being patient, I had tried explaining it to him over and over, but he just didn't get it.

I hit the fork out of his hand and yelled, "I said no!  I told you a hundred times this week that I didn't want to try your fettucini on a first date!  What's so difficult to understand about that?"

He yelled back, "Then nobody gets any!" and he slammed the container onto the ground where it burst open, partially spraying my nearby ankles with alfredo sauce.  I screamed and jumped back, and he stomped away.

Several heads turned toward me on the sidewalk.  I practically ran back to my car and drove home.

Introducing "Cheery"

Sometimes bad things happen to good people.

Sometimes bad dates end well.

Sometimes, you find yourself perusing ABCotD, only to find a story with such a happy ending that it makes you want to kiss a weeping kitten's head.

For all those times, we give you our newest label: Cheery!

Now accessible from the text navigation on top of every page (like the rest of our tags), we've painstakingly combed the archives for stories about dates that may have gone awry but still ended well for both parties.

A big thanks to Katie over at The Occasional Fish for her help on this project.  Check out her blog.  She's a good writer and fun!

Click here to start enjoying Cheery Stories now!  Awwww.


- JMG

Lunch Is Truly the Greatest Adventure

Story Submitted by Robert:

Miranda and I met online. She struck me as different from the vast majority of women who I encountered, mostly because she seemed very interested in me.  When I asked her what she wanted to do on a date, she said, "Something different from just a sit-down lunch. Think adventure."

It was a pretty open directive, as one person's adventurous is another person's tame. I picked out a local park trail to start and figured that I could always find something more adventurous if she requested it. When I mentioned the idea to her, she sounded excited about it.

When we made it to the park, though, she said, "I don't like walking on sticks and branches. It makes me feel like I'm walking on people's bones."

I glanced up and down at our intended path, and saw that it was strewn with dirt, sticks, and twigs. I asked her if she'd be okay walking on it, and she replied, "Probably not."

I said, "You might have mentioned it before, back when I suggested going for a nature walk."

She replied, "It might have been one of those paved nature walks. I didn't know."

I said, "Let's walk around the neighborhood instead."

We had a decent walk and came upon a dead end that had a basketball hoop and a basketball right next to it. I picked it up and dribbled it a bit. I asked her, "Want to shoot?"

She shuddered and said, "No. You don't know where that basketball's been.  A kid could've sneezed on it, or it could have been in the bathtub where a kid had an open cut. You don't know."

I put the basketball down and asked her, "What would you like to do? It seems that everything I suggest is too dangerous."

She said, as if it should have been obvious to me since the beginning, "Maybe lunch?"

I replied, "You told me before that you didn't want to go out for lunch."

She said, with that same exasperated tone, "I changed my mind! God!"

I took her out to a decent cafe. We sat in relative silence, as I didn't really know what to make of her volatile personality. Finally, she said, "We can go back there and shoot basketball if you buy a new basketball first."

"I don't want to buy a new basketball. There was a perfectly good one right there."

"But it was filthy. Do you want to play basketball or not?"

I said, "I had wanted to do something out of the ordinary or adventurous with you, but you won't even touch a used rubber ball. I think that we define adventurous differently."

She said, "I'm not stopping you. You can go back, play as much basketball as you want to, and die of dysentery for all I care."

"Thanks."

"Having lunch is a perfectly respectable adventure."

"It is."

I ended the date once the meal was over, and I actually did end up going back there and shooting some hoops. I'm not dead yet.

That Smoky Flavor

Email Submitted by Brenda:

Dear Smoker:

What a shame!

Shame! Shame!!!

Your profile is grand and you are very pretty! But shame!

Shame! Shame!!!

You smoke! That's a deal breaker for me! It is a truly shame!

You will die!

If you stop smoking we can date together!

James

Calling it Short

Story Submitted by Courtney:

Bill emailed me and I checked out his profile.  He seemed like an interesting guy who, according to his stats, was 5'10".  I couldn't tell from his medium-shot, low-angle photos, but he certainly could have been.  Not that height's a big deal to me either way, but it's a key fact, here.

We set up a lunch date at a local restaurant and he said that he'd meet me inside.  I arrived there and saw him sitting at a table, next to a suitcase.  I sat across from him and we had a good chat over lunch.  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until the meal was over and I stood up.

He said, "Wait a sec," then shifted over in his seat and became noticeably shorter.  He pulled a phone book out from where he had been sitting, opened his suitcase, put it inside, then pulled out two smaller but still thick phone books, each of them tied shut with brown ribbon.  He then tied one each to his shoes, then closed his suitcase and stood up, standing at roughly 5'10".

"Ready?" he asked as if there was nothing out of the ordinary about tying phone books to his feet and walking around that way.  He caught me staring at his feet and he asked, "What is it?"

I asked, "Phone books?"

He said, "My orthopedist recommended it.  Ready to go?"

Without the phone books on his feet, he must have been about 5'4" or 5'5".  Clearly, he had used his phone book-enhanced height on his profile, rather than his actual height.

I waited until we were outside, him clop-clopping behind me, before I asked, "Your orthopedist wants you taller?"

He frowned and said, "My orthopedist said it would be good for my posture.  I'm already tall."

"You were sitting on one in the restaurant.  Your orthopedist recommended that, too?"

He groaned.  "Yes.  Want to get ice cream?"

He led me to an ice cream place down the block, but he tired out after a little bit and had to rest.  I asked him, "How long does your orthopedist say you have to wear them?"

He asked, "Are you my mother?  For as long as it takes!"  It was clearly a sore subject for him, and he gave me more and more dirty looks as the silent minutes ticked by.

We eventually enjoyed our ice cream and I bid him goodbye shortly after.  Last I checked on his profile, his height had been revised to six feet even.  I guess his posture's really improving.  Or he's found some thicker phone books.